Coming Home

Chapter 5

TW: self harm

Morgana walked around the forest observing her surroundings. She could see the road beyond and the strange silver boxes called cars. She knew where Merlin's house was, she did, after all, spend the last week observing both him and Arthur. The whole situation, while aggravating, was rather humorous. Apparently Arthur hadn't felt the need to keep up with the times. Maybe if he had, he would have known just how much Merlin had been through. She did. And she knew exactly where to hit him to inflict the most pain. 

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No one was home as she peeked through the window. So she opened the door and crept in. 

Morgana wandered around the narrow halls of Merlin's house, familiarizing herself with her surroundings. Suddenly, the door squeaked. She spun around and ducked into a room. A closet.

She peeked through the cracks and watched someone wander around, rummaging through drawers. 

"Arthur? What is he doing?"

Arthur was taking things out of the drawer and turning them over in his hands, a practiced, careful movement. Among the items were a picture, a small wooden dragon, a stack of paper tied with string, a single metal cylinder--the modern world called these bullets, a chain with tags, and a gun. She knew what these were. She had watched the world fly by. Arthur, however, looked at the gun as he had the other objects. With curiosity, but little recognition.

Suddenly, Arthur pulled out a bag with some sort of powder in it. Morgana almost laughed at how easy it would be to finally kill Emrys. He was already trying to do it on his own. Surely he wouldn't mind her aiding in it. Not that it mattered if he cared or not.

Arthur eventually left the house and she was free to continue exploring. But she was done for the day. She left and looked for a suitable location to spy on the house.

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I was in my apartment. I had left Arthur to do his own thing and figure out whatever he needed to on his own. I was playing with a dagger, an assortment of weapons in the chest next to me.  A thousand years of addictions doesn't just disappear. I rolled my sleeve up and cut into the flesh of my wrist.

Blood welled up around the cut and dripped down my arm. I wiped the blood away and dug the blade in deeper, over the fading scars. My leg bounced up and down as the blade continued to dig. The pain grounded me, my dreamlike trance fading for a moment and reality setting in. I took a deep breath before beginning to clean out the wound. I wrapped my arm tightly in a bandage and rolled my sleeve down. 

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Arthur opened the door wide as soon as I got home.

"Merlin!" he shouted, "Come quick! The tiny flame-less furnace is beeping!" He grabbed my arm tightly and I winced before I had the chance to stop it. Arthur stopped in his tracks and dammit. Of course he noticed.

"Are you okay?" Dammit. The one question I dreaded the most.

"Yea. I'm fine. What's wrong with the microwave?"

"It's beeping. Is it going to explode?"

"No...." I sighed. Some things would never change.

"Okay. What's wrong with your arm?"

"Nothing, Arthur." I moved to continue to walk into the house.

"Oh no you don't. Give me your arm." Shit. I couldn't get out of this one.

"Arthur, it's fine. Leave me alone." He grabbed my arm before I had a chance to run into the house. We struggled for a moment but he had the upper hand. He yanked my sleeve up and stared at the bandages wrapped around my wrist.

"Merlin," his voice was dangerously low, warning me not to lie, "What is this?"

"My arm. Wrapped in a bandage." This was shaky ground. In all my years spent with Arthur, I had never been in a situation like this.

"Merlin. Take the bandage off." He sounded like he was trying to calm a spooked horse.

"Make me." That was probably not the best move but I wasn't in the mood for anyone's pity. I had dealt with this for centuries, the drugs for decades. I was fine.

He dragged me into the house, sat me down and began unwrapping the bandages. I braced myself for the scolding that was about to take place.

"Dammit, Merlin! Where is this from?"

"... I'm just not gonna answer that....."

"Merlin, these aren't accidental. Did you do this?" Dammit.

"No. Obviously." Great job, Merlin. That doesn't sound like a lie...

"Merlin. You know you can trust me, right?"

"Can I really though? For five years, five years, Arthur, I hid my magic from you, only to have you react in anger towards me. In hatred. You died and left me alone! You left me alone for a thousand years! I was alone for years, with an empty promise and my last memory of you was you telling me not to change. Do you know how impossible that is for a thousand years?" I was sobbing now, hating the tears running down my face.

I felt an arm around my back. Arthur pulled up a chair and his hand was rubbing circles on my back. I tried to leave only to have him pull me back down to the chair.

"Merlin, come on. You do know that I have to clean out your room, right?"

"No. Don't. Please. I just want to sleep."

Surprisingly, he let me. He led me to the couch and I lay down. Scared of the dreams that would overtake my sleep.

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Arthur walked back into Merlin's room and went straight to the drawers. He opened them up and removed the pocket knife, dagger, and any other strange item that he didn't recognize. He then began to rummage through the closet and bed sheets until he was satisfied with his search.

AN: Hey. So I've been on vacation for a while so sorry for the lack of updates. Not super happy with this. Let me know what you think!

Also, this is now in the wattys2018 competition thingy so if you could leave a vote or share the story that'd be great. Thanks for all the support guys!